He caught his fiddle to his breast: liquid melody flowed out into the empty hall, and went echoing down long passages and up into vaulted roofs. Like rabbits from a warren, now a scullion popped a head out of some dark corner, now a rosy wench half opened a side door and peeped, smiling. There awoke all about the sleepy castle a sound of skirmishing and tittering; now a patter of bare feet; now the tramp of boots that no precautions could hush. At length the majestic form of the major-domo himself appeared before the vagrants, magnificent in his silver chain and silk stockings and buckle shoes. Geiger-Hans hushed his music and leaned over to Steven to whisper in his ear:
"See, he has been putting on his grand garb of ceremony to deliver his lady's little lie."
"The high-born, my mistress, had not expected you before to-morrow," said the butler, with a deep bow to Steven. He cast a fish-like eye of astonishment upon the fiddler, but, nevertheless, pursued: "Will your honour follow me to your apartment?" Again he stared at the musician, who nimbly rose and bowed.
"The high-born, my mistress, had not expected you before to-morrow," said the butler, with a deep bow to Steven.
"My honour will also follow," he said blandly. "Our valise is on the donkey's back, at the door; see to it, my man."
* * * * *
If Geiger-Hans were surprised at his own success, it was only the humorous twitch of his eyebrows that betrayed the fact. He was of those, apparently, whose talent for seizing opportunities generally evoke the belief that they have created them.
"Comrades should share and share alike," said he presently, laying down Steven's brush, which he had been wielding dexterously on his own locks—"lend me a black ribbon for my queue—it is out of mode, but I am of the old stock. I have been shaved à velours to-day—'twas an inspiration! A cloud of powder would complete me, but you new-century bucks know not of these refinements. Nay, but here is a pot of the finest Parma, as I live! For the chin and cheek of milord after the razor, no doubt? Now shall you see how it became the countenance of a better-looking generation.—I think that black suit of yours so neatly folded in the corner of our valise is, perhaps, what would best grace my gravity. Yes. And a ruffle shirt.... Thank you. Ah! ... And those violet silk stockings."
Steven stood hypnotized.